


Blond, Brunette . . . Redhead? Or The Twenty-Five Confessions of Christopher R. Pike

by circ_bamboo



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circ_bamboo/pseuds/circ_bamboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quote from boosette: "Pike really does need two people in his relationships: one (One) to hold him down and another to make him talk about his feelings."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blond, Brunette . . . Redhead? Or The Twenty-Five Confessions of Christopher R. Pike

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed Det. Ryan from [here](http://abc.go.com/shows/castle/bio/kevin-ryan/179207). (But he has such pretty blue eyes!)

A glass of beer slammed down on the bar next to Number One, followed by two shots of what looked like whiskey— _probably bourbon_ , she thought, as she looked over exactly enough to see who would have the nerve to sit next to her at the Officer's Bar.

Of course it was Jim Kirk, sitting down like he had every right to be there. She supposed he did; their relationship, whatever they wanted to call it (lovers? two-thirds of a threesome?), allowed him the liberty. He slid one of the shots down in front of her, and she picked it up. "What are we toasting?" she asked.

"To absent friends," he said, with a twist of his lips, and she quirked an eyebrow, acknowledging the hit and the reference. They shot in silence, and One savored the burn.

Jim couldn't be silent for more than a few minutes, though, and he said, "Another late meeting."

"Yes," One said.

"Our shore leaves only overlap by two weeks."

"I know. He knows."

He blew air out through his nose in a faint _huff_. "One of these days I think we may have to beat some things into his head."

"And how would you propose we do that?" One asked, amused.

"I," Jim said, "am a master tactician, second only to our dear absent admiral. Ditto you. If any two people in Starfleet can outwit him and get him to talk about his _feelings_ , it would be us."

"True," One said, declining to correct his math. "So, what, we plan this in advance?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "We need not only a plan, but an agenda once we've got him pinned down."

"I'll do the pinning," she said. "You bring the agenda. Tonight?"

"No, tomorrow night," he said. "Tonight, we're getting laid. I'm not waiting if stuff gets too heavy."

One laughed. "Tomorrow night, then."

"I'll be there." Jim's grin was wavering between evil and predatory, and she couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

"What the hell—" Pike didn't make it more than two feet inside his bedroom door before he was accosted by, as it turned out, Number One. She pinned him to the bed—his own bed!—by his shoulders, one thigh between his, and just looked at him, smirking.

"What on earth is going on?" he asked. He didn't struggle; he knew better.

"Ahem," Jim said, from somewhere behind One. Pike hadn't noticed him before, but he craned his head to look. Jim was standing towards the middle of the room, holding a large pad of paper, of the sort that was normally put on an easel. The first sheet read, "Discussion Topic: Feelings," in handwriting he thought probably wasn't Jim's. The little extra flourishes by the word 'Feelings,' though: those were Jim's.

"I take it we're discussing our feelings?" Pike said.

"Not quite," Jim said. "We'll be discussing your feelings, which, by the way, you do have, no matter how much you pretend otherwise."

"Excuse me?" He turned to One, whose face gave away nothing.

"Eyes here, Chris," Jim said.

Pike rolled his eyes. "Look, Jim, it's been a long day. I'd really rather not."

"I'm sure, but we'll make it worth your while."

"Oh?" He accompanied the interrogative with a raised eyebrow.

"Yep," Jim said, with a huge grin. "Every time you say something true about your feelings—and we'll know if it's the truth, so don't try anything—one of us will lose a piece of clothing."

Pike thought about it for a moment, and sighed. This was going to take a while. All three of them were wearing standard uniforms. "I don't suppose I have a choice?"

One's hands tightened on his shoulders, and she spoke for the first time since he got into the room. "No, you don't."

"Can I just tell you that I love you both and then we can all get naked?" he asked, hoping against hope.

Jim and One exchanged a glance. "Tempting, but no," Jim said.

Pike sighed again. "All right. What's on the next page of your agenda?"

Jim's grin turned evil as he flipped the pad over. "The first order of business . . ."

* * *

Two hours later, Chris was down to his black boxer-briefs; Jim and Number One were both fully nude. One had shifted so she was behind Chris on the bed, her arms lightly clasped over his chest, legs tangled with his. Jim was curled up to their left sides, his cheek on One's shoulder and his arm over hers.

"Any more pages?" Chris asked. He sounded exhausted; looked it, too, eyelids heavy.

"The last one's a free square," Jim said, rolling out of bed and checking the giant pad of paper. He showed them the last page and then flipped back to the cover before he returned to where he'd been. "One more thing, Chris. Anything."

"And then what?" he asked.

"We're all naked," Jim said. "What would you like to happen?" He tried to suppress the wicked grin, but it wasn't happening.

"Oh, I'm sure he can think of something," One said, her mouth close to Chris's ear, and Jim felt him shudder against her.

"I don't know," Chris said. "I could easily fall asleep like this." He wriggled a bit to make his point, and One closed her eyes briefly.

"Are you sure?" Jim asked, sliding a hand down his chest.

"I'm sure," Chris said, but his breath hitched. "You're exhausting, you know," he added a moment or two later.

"I've been told that before, yes," Jim said, "but not usually _before_." He speared his fingers through Chris's silvering chest hair.

Number One shifted so that Jim was settled more comfortably in the hollow of her shoulder, just above Chris's head, and said, "One more, Chris."

"This wouldn't be necessary if you'd worn the skirt uniform," Chris said. "One less piece. Or if either of you had gone commando today."

She snorted. "When's the last time you saw me in the skirt uniform?"

"Good point." He paused for a moment and closed his eyes. "Only one more?"

"Yes," One said.

He sighed. _At least he's stopped apologizing for each of them_ , Jim thought. Somewhere around Confession Number Eighteen or Nineteen, things had gotten a lot worse and then, almost instantly, a lot easier. He stroked Chris's arm encouragingly.

Chris continued in a much quieter tone. "Sometimes I think about taking another lover so I wouldn't have to sleep alone so often."

One's arms tightened around him. "So do it."

"What?" Chris lifted his head. "Isn't two enough?"

"Apparently not," Jim said. "And you had the temerity to pick two active-duty captains who don't spend a lot of time on earth."

"Christ," Chris said. "This polyamory thing is just complicated."

Jim laughed and sat up. "It doesn't have to be. If you want someone to share your bed when we're not here, whether for fun or so you've got someone around when you—" He gestured vaguely, not really wanting to bring up Confessions Eight through Fourteen, mostly involving screaming nightmares "—well, then, find someone. And save up stories to tell us when we're in town." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"You don't mind?"

It was Jim's turn to snort. "Seriously?"

Number One chuckled. "This is Starfleet, not a nunnery."

"Got anyone in mind?" Jim asked. "Let's see . . . you've already got a blond and a brunette. How about a redhead?"

Chris swatted him on the arm. "No, I don't have anyone in mind. I just admitted to myself about two minutes ago that I pathologically hate sleeping alone, and to you two about ten seconds after that. When would I have time to go chasing after anyone?"

"Well, whatever," Jim said. "Be safe, give us the heads-up if it gets serious, and remember to save the last dance for us."

Chris twisted his neck to look up at One. "Really?"

She kissed his nose. "Really."

"Okay," he breathed.

"And," Jim said, swinging his leg over to straddle Chris's and One's legs, "that makes twenty-five true statements about your feelings." He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Chris's underwear and drew them down slowly. "Are you done talking? Because I'm done talking." He slid off the end of the bed in a controlled, graceful movement, taking the underwear with him, and dropped them on the floor. Without a pause, he crawled back up the bed, watching Chris's eyes until the very end, when he ghosted his lips up the midline of Chris's face and leaned in to kiss One quite thoroughly.

"Tease," he heard Chris mutter, and he smiled against One's lips. Turning his head to one side, he kissed his way down her neck and chest until he reached Chris's neck. He licked the evening stubble along Chris's jawline; drew circles with his tongue above his pulse point until he heard a gasp. He smiled again, and ducked his head to find a nipple.

"Jim," Chris said, and he paused in his ministrations to look up. "I really am tired—mentally, physically. I don't think . . ."

"I know," Jim said. "Just—let me? And even if you don't, it'll still be fun."

Chris looked at him for a moment and then smiled, fondly. "Yeah, all right, Jim. Do your best."

"I _always_ do my best," Jim said with a wicked grin. He stretched up to kiss One again, snaking one hand between Chris's side and arm to stroke down the curve of her waist to her hip. "For you, too."

"I'll hold you to it," she said, cupping the back of his head. "Chris, sit up a bit more."

He obeyed, sliding up the bed until his head was almost level with hers. She stroked under his chin with her nails until he tilted his chin up like a cat, and then nibbled below his ear. Chris closed his eyes and _hmmed_ with pleasure.

Jim watched for a moment—they were so _beautiful_ together—before sliding one leg between Chris's and the other between his and One's. He inched backwards until his mouth was somewhere near Chris's solar plexus. God, he hoped he looked as good at fifty. Probably wouldn't, though; they'd probably promote him too early and he'd spend the rest of his life bored out of his mind on his ass behind a desk. He shuddered, and pressed kisses along Chris's ribs to distract himself.

It worked; or if not that, then the noises Chris was making as Number One did whatever she was doing up there. Jim rolled his eyes up; her fingers were on his nipples and her mouth where his neck met his shoulder. "Next time, I'm just going to watch," he said, mostly to himself, and licked a stripe up Chris's half-hard cock. The fact that he was only _half_ hard with what One was doing up there underscored how tired he was, and Jim hesitated.

A moment later, gray eyes opened just a slit, but that was enough to pin Jim with a glare. "Are you stopping there?"

Jim shivered, shook his head, and wrapped his hand and mouth back around Chris. Damn. He was thinking too much. Counting him, there were three of Starfleet's most amazing—and hottest—overachievers in this bed, and here he was _thinking about how they were all overachievers_. Fuck. _Brain, off_ , he ordered himself, and swirled his tongue over the head of Chris's cock.

It only took a moment or two of Jim's full concentration to get Chris fully hard and pushing his hand into Jim's hair, not directing but making a connection. The feel of him writhing and pushing back against One and against the mattress went straight to Jim's head—well, one of them, anyway—and he pulled his other leg between Chris's, dropping his body to the mattress so he was propped up on his arms on Chris's hips. One had pulled her legs back as well so her feet were flat to the mattress—well, one was. The other was rubbing against Chris's hip.

Jim groaned, low in his throat, and rubbed against the mattress. The amazing thing about having two lovers at the same time was twice as many orgasms; the awful thing was that, for him at least, they seemed to want to happen twice as fast. He reached one hand down and grabbed the base of his cock, painful as it was, to buy him a few more minutes.

He used all those minutes, and more, and every possible tool in his arsenal—bobbing, sucking, swallowing, humming, tongue, lips, teeth (carefully), both hands, and even his nails—but eventually, _finally_ , Chris was bucking and arching under him and coming, with a cry. Jim swallowed, two or three times, until he was sure Chris was done. He let him slip out of his mouth, carefully, and buried his face in the crease of Chris's thigh with a sigh.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Chris occasionally shaking with the aftermath, until One tapped Jim on the shoulder with her toes. "Hey," she said. "You asleep down there?"

He looked up, amused. "No," he said. "Although it is pretty comfy down here."

Chris raised his head. "Are you calling me fat?" he asked, not quite able to suppress a smile.

Jim snorted, pulled his legs under him, and sat back on his heels. "Hell, no." He leaned forward and kissed Chris gently, but the admiral had other ideas. One hand went around the back of Jim's head, pulling him closer, tipping his head to one side. He explored the inside of Jim's mouth with his tongue, as if he were searching for a taste of himself. Admittedly, he did that every time, but it was still _hot_ , and it reminded Jim that he hadn't come yet. He pressed forward, hoping for something to come into contact with his cock.

Chris ended the kiss, and One took over, her mouth just as hot and possibly even more demanding. Someone—probably Chris—pushed on Jim's hip, and without breaking the kiss, he climbed over to kneel on the left side of the bed. He felt Chris move out of One's lap, and a moment later, Jim was flat on his back in the middle of the bed, pinned at the shoulders, looking up into a pair of amused blue eyes.

"I'd make you talk about your feelings, too," One said, "but we really don't have time for that."

Jim laughed, and leaned up to take one of her breasts into his mouth, tracing a circle around the nipple. "Later," he said against her skin, and switched to the other breast. He kept one hand against the mattress to anchor himself and pressed the other to her lower back. She took the hint and dropped her hips, grinding up against him. He gasped and lowered his head to the mattress.

She followed him down, nipping at his earlobe, and he gasped again.

"Do we have enough time," he asked, voice strained, "for me to go down on you?"

"Can you wait that long?" Chris asked. Jim turned to look at him; he was propped up on one elbow, only a couple inches away.

Jim thought about it for a moment and then looked up at One. "Yes," he said. "Please. Okay?"

"Oh, I think so," One said, her lips curving, and both men scooted to the side to let her lie down between them. Chris settled an arm behind her head as Jim kissed his way down her torso before spreading her with his fingers and licking from her perineum to clit in one long stripe. He looked up at her, watching Chris kiss her and trace her collarbone with his fingers. She was already wet, and Jim dipped his tongue briefly inside, tasting her, before circling her clit and sucking. _God._ He'd wanted to do this because it was fun, and because she liked it a lot, and because he liked the way she tasted, but _damn_ , also because of some streak of masochism that made him think that if he just held off a little while longer it would be _better_. Maybe. He'd see.

One gasped and wrapped a leg around Jim's back; he responded by sliding a finger inside her and pressing up—just— _there_ , finding the spot which wouldn't make her come on its own but which would wind her up tighter and tighter. She arched her back and raked her nails over the bedsheets, making a faint _skritching_ sound. Jim watched Chris grab her right hand and pin it over her head; her left arm was wrapped around his neck, keeping his mouth on her neck.

She was close; he could taste it. So, apparently, could Chris, who dropped his free hand to her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. _So. Fucking. Hot_ , Jim thought hazily, and increased the pace and suction until she shattered beneath them, coming with a sharp exhalation.

Jim stroked her hip and Chris held her as she came back down. When she curled up partway to look at Jim, he smiled, surged forward, and kissed her hard. "My turn, please?"

"God, yes," One said, and wrapped her legs around him. Jim closed his eyes, re-angled his hips, and pushed inside her— _hottightwetholySHIT I'm not going to last long at_ all. He held there for a moment, trying to calm down, but his body had other ideas, and his hips started moving without him telling them to.

This was going to be over in about ten seconds if he couldn't— _one squared is one; two squared is four; three squared is nine; four squared is sixteen; five squared is twenty-five; twenty-five squared is 625; To be, or not to be: that is the question: / Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer / The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, / Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, / And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; / No more; and by a sleep to say we end / The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks / That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation—shit, not_ consummation— _the symptoms of Andorian shingles are—fuck this isn't working_ —

But fortunately, by that point, Chris had worked a hand between the two of them and found One's clit; she only needed a few strokes to bring her to a second hard orgasm. Jim groaned at the feel of her clenching around him, snapped his hips in double time, and finally came, seeing stars as he collapsed. He buried his face in the side of One's neck, right next to Chris, and took a handful of deep, shuddering breaths.

He felt two hands, one big and callused and one somewhat smaller, stroking up and down his back, and he smiled. Once he'd regained some manner of muscle control, he kissed One as he withdrew. Rolling to the side, he grabbed the tissues he'd left by the side of the bed. One disappeared to clean herself off in the bathroom, and Chris lay flat in the middle of the bed, hands behind his head, a smug look on his face.

Jim threw the used tissues in the general direction of the recycler and crawled back into the bed, on his usual side, and curled himself around Chris. One returned a moment later, and mirrored Jim's position on her usual side of the bed.

Chris turned his head and kissed Jim, and then kissed One. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that."

"You're welcome," One said.

"We know," Jim added.

Chris laughed and brought his hand up to swat at Jim again. "Ass."

"No, that's down here," Jim said, wriggling his rear end. He yawned. "So I couldn't help but notice that One and I both have blue eyes. You want to complete the set? Let's see—oh, I know! Detective Ryan with Federation Security. Have you _seen_ his eyes? They're, like, Romulan Ale-blue."

" _Jim._ "

"What? They're impossible not to notice."

"How is it that he seems to have more energy _after_ sex than before?" Chris asked One, who laughed. "On a more serious note, if I'm possibly looking for someone else, then, well, are either of you going to?"

"Would it be okay with you?" Jim asked.

Chris thought about it for a moment. "Save up stories?" He looked back and forth between Jim and One. She leaned forward and whispered something in his ear, and he shuddered and groaned. "Oh, God, _please_."

"What?" Jim asked.

Number One looked at him over Chris's face and smiled, like the cat who had caught the canary. "Our weekly vidcomms might get more interesting now, huh?"

It was Jim's turn to shudder and groan.


End file.
